


Terrible Taste in Men

by Moira_Starsong



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crowley (Supernatural) Lives, Crowley (Supernatural) is a Little Shit, Cunnilingus, Dark side of SHIELD, Edgeplay, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hardcore, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Loki isn't all bad, Multi, Nick Fury Lies, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex, Smut, Spitroasting, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, explicit - Freeform, like stalking, m/f/m, mature - Freeform, semi-redeemed Loki, some slightly tiggering subjects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-08-21 16:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moira_Starsong/pseuds/Moira_Starsong
Summary: “Both of them, the King of Hell, and the God of Mischief, in your house, at the same time. An Asgardian in the living room and a demon in the kitchen, both with massive egos and explosive tempers. This was not going to end well.” Reader is an ex-SHEILD agent with a specialty in folklore and terrible taste in men.Crowley/Reader/Loki (MCU/Supernatural Fusion Universe). Projected 3 chapters, HEAVY, HARD-CORE SMUT IN THE THIRD CHAPTER





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aneira_Fen_Foxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneira_Fen_Foxx/gifts).



> Okay so this isn't entirely my fault, I was encouraged by Aneira_Fen_Foxx (along with another user whose name I can't find in order to blame now) in an A03 Writers group on Facebook. I love/hate you guys!! This is the first time I have ever written a reader insert so be kind if some of my tenses or pronouns change, I'm doing my best! This is sometime post-season 12 in Supernatural time, but canon-divergent in that Crowley is still alive. Marvel-wise it doesn't really matter. It could be either sometime after Ragnarok but before Infinity War, OR after Infinity War has been resolved, because I'm firmly in denial-land about what happened to our favorite Trickster in the first 10 minutes of IW. Hopefully it makes sense, and after all even with all the plot it is basically an excuse for hot smut with Loki and Crowley (which won't be til the third chapter, sorry, set-up!). I figured that the snark and taunting between the God of Mischief and the King of Hell would be pretty epic as well, so hopefully I captured their personalities.  
> ONWARD!!

You had been recruited by SHIELD while in your sophomore year at college. You were told that you fit a profile. Intelligent, capable, with a unique specialty that might come in handy one day. You now knew that the “profile” included the fact that you had no family to miss you and few ties to the world. You were an only child, never knew your father, and your mother had been killed in a car wreck when you were seventeen. Life insurance supported your unusual choice of study in school, which was what had attracted SHIELD's attention in the first place. Young, healthy, unattached, and eager for adventure, you had been easy to fold into their system and shaped into what they wanted you to be.  


It had been mostly boring at first. You had been allowed to pursue your unconventional area of research: Ancient Folklore with a specialty in Pagan Deities and a minor in Medieval Demonology. You had wondered sometimes WHY a multi-national spy organization cared about something as arcane and obscure as your field of study. What were the chances of some cult or something popping up that would make your knowledge useful? But to be completely honest, you had just been happy that SOMEBODY wanted to fund your research. The money from your mother's life insurance wasn't going to last forever, even on your sparse student's budget and by supplementing with loans. It was an academic's dream! Then …. The Incident had happened. New York had been invaded by an ancient Trickster God with an army of aliens at his back. Sometimes, you still woke up covered in a fine sheen of sweat, seeing his piercing blue eyes and wide, wicked grin in the darkness, your heart thundering in your chest, the sound drowning out the silence of the empty room.  


You had had your fill of adventure. Twenty-eight years old and you were sick of the world, sick of constant manipulation from your superiors, constant danger from missions you had never expected to be deployed on. You were a _**scholar**_ , for fuck's sake, not a warrior or an assassin! You weren't, well, Natasha. The incident on the helicarrier and the ensuing Battle of New York would have been bad enough, but it wasn't long after that when you had met the demon that claimed to be the King of Hell. You had been given no time at all to process the existence of Gods and aliens, to lick your proverbial wounds, before you were sent to grapple with demons. And that _particular _demon would eventually be responsible for the end of your career at SHIELD…. Well, it didn't matter now, you tell yourself firmly. You were out. No sense dwelling on the past.  
__

__You pull your car over the defunct railroad track that surrounds your property, sighing at the sputtering sound of the engine. You need to get it to the shop soon, but money is in short supply. You had spent nearly all of your savings on building this demon-proofed retreat in the middle of nowhere. You had stayed with Sam and Dean for a few months at their bunker in Kansas – they said it was the least they could do, after what you did for them. It was only because of Clint and the plea deal that he made sure you got that you weren't considered an enemy of the state after helping them escape from the Shadow Ops government facility they had been held at. You couldn't believe Fury had been willing to let them rot. It wasn't fair. It wasn't their fault that Lucifer had been possessing the president at the time they took him down.  
_ _

____

But they were hunters, and you were no more a hunter than you were an Avenger. While the world needed them, you just wanted peace and quiet. If you had stayed, you would have been drawn into more of this shit again. You didn't want adventure. Not with demons, not with Gods, not with aliens. You just want to feel safe again. You could barely remember the feeling.  


As soon as you cross the threshold into your somewhat ramshackle little house, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up. You weren't alone. It couldn't possibly be a demon; this place was covered in a dozen different kinds of wardings and spells. But there's an innumerable amount of other dangerous creatures that you are now aware populate the world, and one of them could be your uninvited guest. Still in the dark, you reach for your mace – laced with holy water and silver nitrate, of course – every nerve thrumming with the preparation for a fight.  


“Nice place.” The deep voice is familiar. _Damn him_. The fear begins to ebb away, replaced instantly by anger. You pocket the mace – you _probably_ won't use it on him – and flip on the light, scowling as the form of Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD, is illuminated. The man is standing as if he knew where the light would hit him for maximum dramatic effect, as if this is a damn movie. He looks exactly as you remember him: ebony skin, smooth bald head, eyepatch, neat goatee, dressed from head to toe in black leather. The master spy himself.  


He continues as he surveys your home with one disdainful eye. “Solid iron fixtures, salt encrusted. Warding _everywhere_. Almost as if you're afraid of demons.” He pauses meaningfully. “Or just one.”  


“Not afraid. Just cautious.” You set your purse on the floor as you address your former boss. “Why are you here, Director?”  


Director Fury cut right to the point.“Loki's back.” he lets those two words sink in,watches your eyes widen slightly, before continuing, “Thor says he's under control, but, he has a blind spot when it comes to his brother. _**I**_ thought you might like a warning.”  


You winkle your nose. Something about that smelled fishy. “Any reason to believe he might come after me?”  


“Not as yet, but --”  


“But you thought you'd take advantage of the situation and try to recruit me back?” His underhandedness disgusts you, but you aren't surprised. Fury might claim to be doing what he does for the greater good, but at times his methods were no better than his enemies. And when one of those enemies was occasionally the King of Hell, that _ought_ to make a man pause and reevaluate. 

But not a man like Fury. “You _did_ insult a God, one who doesn't take kindly to such treatment. I would think you'd be glad of SHIELD's protection –” you scoff at his choice of words, but he talks over you – “And frankly, you should be glad I'd be willing to take you back after the incident with the Winchesters.”  


Anger flares up in you at that, far more powerful than you had expected it to be. _How dare he?!_ He had no right to talk about Sam and Dean that way. If it hadn't been for them, you would be dead. All you had done was return the favor, and you told him so. But to Fury, it was simple. “The world is still grappling with the fact that we are not alone in the universe. A army of aliens invaded New York, led by a fucking _God_. Can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if the public found out about demons and angels, too?”  


“They aren't planning on exposing that.”  


He just shrugs. “They're anarchists. You can never tell what an anarchist is going to do.”  


“They're the heroes that you love to talk about so much. You're just worried you can't control them. And they defeated Lucifer – twice. You should be thanking them, not hunting them.”  


Fury places his gloved hands on his hips, voice firm. “That's not your call to make.”  


“No, its not,” you agree. “And it's why I'm not coming back.”  


Met with your defiance and outright disregard for his authority, he switches to a different tac. “Barton has been asking about you.”  


Guilt floods through you at the mention of Clint. He was really the only one of the Avengers that you had liked, who seemed like a real person and not some paragon of heroism. He had been kind to you, had tried to help you. Save you from yourself. You lean on the kitchen counter for support, suddenly weary. “Clint thinks that Crowley mind-controlled me somehow.”  


“Can you blame him?” the Director's one eye seems to glint at you knowingly.  


“No.” You heave a heavy sigh. Agent Barton had lost his free will completely, carrying out every order given to him, thanks to whatever magic was contained in that staff Loki had carried during his failed invasion. He had helped the rogue Asgardian prince spread his chaos. Poor Clint had been under Loki's thrall from the moment the God first appeared on Earth, killing many of his fellow SHIELD agents in the process. During the fight on the helicarrier, even as it burned and fell from the sky, he had even tried to kidnap you, but Natasha had fought him off, eventually knocking him out. Apparently a really hard hit to the head was all it took to undo the magic controlling him, because when he woke up,... well he was never really gonna be back to his old self after that, you supposed. “How's he doing?” you ask.  


Fury crossed his leather clad arms and glared at you meaningfully. “He's been logging a lot of hours at the archery range. And it's not as if his aim needs improving.”  


You wince. “You must not have told him you were coming to talk to me. He would have insisted on tagging along.”  


Fury avoids that comment, of course. He can't possibly let himself lose control of the conversation. “What should I tell him?”  


You let out a long slow breath, look him in the eye, and lie to the Director's face. “Tell him I know how to ward against anything.”  


The brow above Fury's eyepatch raises ridiculously high, his lips turning downwards into a deep frown. Fury is not a fool. There is, as far as you know, no way to ward against Asgardians. You could keep demons out of your home; but if a God wanted in, he was coming in. There was no reason for Clint to know that, however. You hope Fury would pass along the lie. He had deceived you enough in the past, you think bitterly.  


..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................  


The first time you see him, you're shopping for groceries. Loki is wearing his civilian clothes. They were the same clothes he had worn when he had attacked Stuttgart. Director Fury had showed you surveillance videos from the museum before you had interviewed him, after his “capture”. The director had wanted you to understand just how dangerous he was before he sent you to talk to him. Of course, it was Fury who had underestimated him. The God of Mischief that planned the whole thing, including his capture. Loki was never anywhere he didn't want to be.  


The black suit hugs his slim figure and the green scarf brings out the green flecks in his pale blue eyes, which look positively vivid set again his pallid skin. This time, his long black hair is gathered into a ponytail at the back of his head. The dark strands being out of the way just accentuates the sharpness of his features when he catches your eyes and flashes you a predatory, hungry grin. Your stomach twists and your pulse is hammering under your skin. Even from across the store, with the crowd between you, you could feel the power radiating off of him. He was a predator, a hunter, a wolf. And you were the rabbit. He was hunting you. Your breathing quickens slightly at the thought.  


Your …. association with Crowley had taught you how to deal with men like him. Loki _wanted_ you to be frightened. He wanted to see you shaking and tearful. So you do the only thing you could think of. You wave, projecting as much casual nonchalance in your posture as you possibly can. The wicked, threatening grin melts into an expression of confusion. You will yourself to hold his gaze, even though your instincts are screaming at you to run. He _wanted _you to run. After a heartbeat, he disappears. You let out a ragged breath.  
__

____

It's another two weeks before you catch sight of him again. You were bent over in front of a vending machine, pulling a KitKat out, and when you stand he's right in front of you. Those intense blue-green eyes are staring at you, boring right into your skull, as if he's trying to scoop out what's inside with just his gaze. Your heart picks up speed again, and he smirks, as if he can hear your pounding heartbeat. You silently break the KitKat in half and offer him some of the candy. He doesn't take it. Once again he gives you that perplexed look before disappearing. And so begins the far too familiar game of cat and mouse.  


..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................  


“Why aren't you afraid?” Loki demanded, the first words he had spoken to you since he had started following you. He had been standing right in front of you as you turned a corner on the street. Your breath had hitched in surprise but for the most part you could control your reaction. Crowley had pulled these same tricks, too. Loki was nowhere near as unique as he thought he was.  


He's standing too close to you, invading your personal space. You rock back on your heels, but refuse to take an actual step back. That would be giving ground, surrender, an admittance that he makes you uncomfortable. You are far too used to this little power game he is playing with you. “I'm not the little girl I was when we first met. I know how to deal with men like you now.”  


He looks taken aback at that, his brow furrowing slightly. “There are no men like me.”  


You actually laugh in his face, to Loki's shock. “He thought the same thing.”  


That enraged him, of course. “I am a God, puny mortal!”  


Your heartbeat instantly picks up seed. _Maybe that was a stupid thing to say_. The twisted, angry expression on his face is terrifying, and his eyes are damn near _glowing_ , making every nerve in your body thrum, and you are suddenly reminded that you were dealing with an honest-to-goodness God. Well, maybe not _goodness_. A God with a reputation for capriciousness, certainly, and a violent temper. But it was too late. All there is to do now is pretend to be calm.  


“All men think they're Gods.” You shrug, flipping your long hair behind your shoulder. “Is there a point to this, or can I go about my day? I have shit to do.” Projecting a bravery you didn't feel, and hoping with all your might that he couldn't read your mind, you carefully step around him and continue walking.  


“Ah, and what could be so vital?” he sneers as he fell into step behind you. You sincerely hope he didn't know what that sneer did to you, and not for the first time, you silently curse your terrible taste in men. “You used to have a purpose, a mission. Your life has gotten so _small_ since last our paths crossed.”  


“What purpose?” you respond flippantly. “Didn't you call me Fury's errand girl? At least my life is my own, now.” When you turn around, he was gone.  


“What, no response?” You yell into the wind, the first time you had lost your temper since he had started following you. “That was cowardly!”  


You ignore the looks from some of the passersby.  


..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................  


“Is this revenge for the horse comment? Following me is kinda lame, isn't it?” You offer him a  
beer when he shows up in your kitchen one night. His hair is unbound tonight, and it waves a little as he cocks his head to the side to regard you. You start to feel a little stupid and self conscious, in your short shorts and unbuttoned plaid flannel shirt over a faded tank top, arm extended and holding out the beer. Was he too good to drink with you or something?!  


“Loki, just take the fucking beer.” You say impatiently, waving it at him. “It's not poisoned, and if it was, it wouldn't do any good against an Asgardian, would it?”  


“No, it wouldn't.” He laughs a small laugh, and the sharp features of his face soften when he does. His smile is almost mesmerizing, and you find yourself wishing he would smile more often. _No!_ You chide yourself. _Bad thought!_  


A faint smile still tugging at his thin lips, Loki reaches out and takes the bottle from your hand. His long slim fingers brush yours as he does so. A bolt of electricity goes down your spine at the touch, which you do your best to ignore. You cough, looking away. “So, you gonna tell me why you're following me?” you picked at the label of your own beer.  


Loki considers for a moment, before he responds. “You are …..odd, for a human. And this home, while …. shabby ...”  


You roll your eyes. “Thanks.”  


“ – Has lines of power woven into it. They're not as strong as the magic of Asgard, of course,”  


“Of course,” you echo in a deadpan tone. You don't think Loki is oblivious to your sarcasm – he's far too clever for that – but he ignores you. “But I am still surprised to encounter such a thing in this realm. And from one such as you. I am not often surprised.”  


“Glad I could give someone as old as you a new experience.” You tease.  


He's giving you the unnerving stare again, like he's trying to look right through you. “Are you a witch?”  


Thinking of Rowena, it's your turn to laugh. “No, no, definitely not. I'm just a folklorist.” When you see that explanation didn't seem to do the trick, you continue. “I study …. well, things like … you.”  


“But there is a power that flows off you, as well.” Loki places the half-drunk beer on the counter, and proceeds to step right up to you. You can't control your breathing picking up. _He's so much taller than Crowley_ , you find yourself thinking, before viciously shutting down any comparison of the two and where that line of thought would lead. His electric eyes hold yours as he speaks, but you have to focus to hear the words. “It's faint, but it's ….”  


He reaches out to move aside the over-sized flannel shirt, and your heart pounds. Your mouth is dry and the sudden images flashing in your mind aren't helping you to get your breathing under control. His eyes focus on your cleavage exposed above the tank top, and he licks his lips, the flash of pink tongue making you shiver.  


“Here.” he breathes, confusing you for a moment, “Coming from this.”  


Oh. Your tattoo. You're suddenly deeply, deeply embarrassed. How could you think Loki would _want_ you? He was a God, he was incredibly beautiful, a thousand years old, and you were ….. just you. Stupid, stupid girl! You chide yourself. He was just fascinated by a magic he didn't understand. The irony is you had gotten the anti-possession symbol tattooed on your chest while you were still in school, long before you ever met a demon. Before you had believed in magic and devils and Gods.  


“You are afraid,” Loki says softly, so softly. His eyes are still glued to the tattoo, as if he's studying it. “But not of me.”  


“I'm not afraid.” You protest automatically. “I know how to protect myself.”  


His fingers reached out and traced the lines of black ink etched into your chest.  


You gasp at the touch. “Your hands are so cold!” you blurt without thinking.  


His demeanor instantly changes. Loki pulled his hand back as if he had been burned, his face hardening. No fascination. No curiosity. No gentleness. Only anger. You had said something wrong, you knew it, but you had no idea _what_.  


“Loki....?” You hate the uncertainty in your voice.  
When his eyes finally raise to meet yours again, you see regret flash in their depths for just a moment, before they become calm, placid pools once more. And then he's gone.  


..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................  


That one light touch began to haunt your dreams. Loki's fingertips had been cool, and in your dreams you imagined those cold fingers dancing lightly across every angle of your naked body. You imagined his long hair tickling your chest as his cool lips nipped and nibbled your exposed flesh. You imagined that wide wicked grin as he slid down your body with serpentine grace and demonstrated his skill with that legendary quicksilver tongue, the intoxicating cold from his touch cooling the fire he awoke in your skin.  


Crowley's touch had been warm, far hotter than a human's would be. He was practically burning, literally, and his touch was a fever. His breath had been as hot as hellfire, the weight of his body heavy as he held you down. You wished you had never given into his advances, and not because it had ruined your career and reputation. After having Crowley as a lover, no human man could possibly compare. He had ruined you for mortal men. Perhaps that's why you were obsessing over Loki.  


Loki was the ice to Crowley's fire. He was cool and collected when Crowley was passionate and fiery, tall and slim where Crowley was short and compact, pale where Crowley was ruddy in complexion, skin smooth where Crowley sported a scruffy beard. Yet they were similar in many ways. They were both incredibly intelligent and took charming to a new level when they wanted to, most skilled in magic and trickery. They each had out-of-this-world egos, and deserved them, to a degree. And they were both utterly amoral and self-serving. Why, why, why, did you have to have such awful taste in men?  


During the day you felt guilt for your desire, just as you had agonized over your desire for the King of Hell. You had agonized over your desire for the King of Hell for years before you had finally tumbled into bed with him. And knowing how you had eventually given into that passion, and where it had led you, you feared for what these dreams could mean for you now.  


..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................  


“You would have been happier if I had won the Battle of New York.” Loki was stretched out on your couch, lounging like a damn cat. The most annoying thing wasn't even how comfortable he looked, completely at home taking over yours, but how you had actually come to look forward to his little visits. You were aware of how unhealthy that probably was, but it wasn't like you got out much. It was kind of sad that most of your social interaction came from your divine stalker, but you were the one had chosen to live the life of a hermit after …. everything. And choice was the subject that Loki seemed to want to discuss tonight.  


“Oh, really?” You challenged him. You were sitting in a broken-down chair nearby, legs tucked underneath you, and you weren't entirely sure how the subject of how you had met had arisen. The two of you did have interesting discussions/arguments, and Loki seemed to enjoy the fact that you challenged him.  


“Oh, not you, personally.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Your entire species.”  


“And why is that? The whole 'freedom is a lie, you need to be commanded' spiel again?”  


“Belief is a powerful thing.” Certainty and smugness rolled off of him as the speech began. It was maddening. “Your kind used to have it; it ennobled you. Now you're small, riddled with self-doubt, empty of purpose, meaning.”  


“Purpose is over-rated,” you mutter.  


“Oh?”  


You turn your empty beer bottle over in your hands, contemplating every angle. “Belief gets you into trouble.” You sigh. “I believed in SHIELD, I believed in its mission. And Fury used that.” It must be the alcohol that was making you so forthcoming. “Used _me_. Put me into situations that I was never prepared to handle …”  


Loki leans forward slightly now, interest alight in his blue-green eyes, a slightly manic gleam that was almost frightening. “These situations are why you now live in the middle of nowhere, in a shack laced with spells against dark creatures?”  


“Hey, it's not a shack!” You cry, genuinely offended. That only seems to amuse him. “We aren't all royalty, you know. This place cost me a _lot_ of money to set up.”  


“Then I fear for the state of your sanctuary if you had been a pauper.” Loki chuckled briefly at his own joke, but he wouldn't be distracted from his chosen subject. “What happened?”  


Your answer is soft, and you look away from his intense gaze. “I did bad things.”  


The smugness seems to intensify. “So, you came to regret your choices.”  


“Yes, but not the way you're thinking. Most of my problems came from _**NOT**_ thinking for myself.” You gestured with your bottle. LIE LIE LIE. “How's that fit with your little narrative?”  


Loki smirks. “It means you were taking commands from the wrong person, not that there's anything wrong with the narrative itself.” The low purr is so sensual, the smirk so promising, and your body responds against your will.  


“Oh for the love of -” you sigh in exasperation. Loki's smirk widens as he sits back into the couch. His eyes sparkle, and the green in them seems to intensify. It seems like there's an invitation there – You swear he knows how he affects you, but he has never tried to touch you since that time in the kitchen when he caressed your tattoo. You honestly don't know if you should be relieved or disappointed, but you can't deny that his presence is extremely frustrating, in more ways than one. Many times, as soon as Loki leaves, you have to, ah, satisfy some primal urges.  


Deciding you had had enough of looking at that maddening expression on his too-handsome face, you stand. “Another beer?” you offer, more to distract yourself from the memory of those long fingers then an effort at playing the good host to your uninvited guest.  


“Please.” He inclined his head magnanimously.  


At least he had stopped insulting your choice of drink, you thought as he handed the empty bottle to you. You pad to the kitchen and pull two more beers from the fridge, when the lights flicker briefly. Your heart skips a beat, and you barely have time to contemplate running for the salt before a familiar, accented voice purrs in your ear, making you jump. “Hello, darling. Miss me?”  


Oh. _Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!!!_ Both of them, the King of Hell, and the God of Mischief, in your house, at the same time. An Asgardian in the living room and a demon in the kitchen, both with massive egos and explosive tempers. This was not going to end well.  


After all, you had absolutely TERRIBLE taste in men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, Crowley doesn't actually show up until the end of the chapter, sorry! Aaaaaaaaaaaaa, what will happen now??? An epic snark-off, that's what! Stay tuned!


	2. An Indecent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected meeting between old lovers and a new acquaintance leads to tempers flaring, and an _entirely_ indecent proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was faster to write, and shorter than the first one, because it's basically one long scene, and doesn't have the burden of setting up all the backstory that the first chapter did. the brief mention of another hunter, Simon Campbell, is an OC from another story, not a canon character, so you won't find anything about him, lol.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and a half-dozen half-formed plans flash through your mind, but you discard them all. The sigh in your ear tells you he's displeased with your deer-in-the-headlights response. Crowley had always liked your snark and sarcasm. The same mouth that had made the God of Mischief angry with you, had drawn the King of Hell into your orbit more effectively than Love Potion No. 9. He liked someone who could match him in wit, and now you were frozen in fear. Before you can think of something to do, a too-warm hand runs down the side of your torso and settles on your hip. “Nothing to say, pet?”

You turn around, holding the beers in between your bodies, as if they could act as some kind of shield. Crowley has you backed against the refrigerator door, with nowhere to run. He's so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, detect the faint whiff of sulfur beneath the cologne he wears. “How did you get past the warding?” you demand.  


“Never underestimate the King of Hell, darling,” he purrs, an amused expression on his face, as he withdraws the hand from your hip. You _hate_ that a part of you is disappointed, hate the way your body is responding to being so close to him after so long. After all, you are _very_ aware of everything that he can do to you with those hands of his …. You struggle to bring your mind to the present, forcing yourself to focus on the memory of when he had tried to kill you, instead of the fact that you had never had a more powerful orgasm than when you were with him. Why, why, why did you like the dangerous ones?  


His hazel eyes flick to what you're holding in your hands. “ _Two_ beers?” he inquires, sounding bored and disinterested, when you knew he was anything but. “Do you have a visitor?”  


Your mouth goes dry. How would Crowley react? Would he be jealous? You scramble for an explanation that won't end in violence, but you don't have time to come up with one before you're interrupted.  


"Yes,” Loki's voice comes from the doorway. “She does.”  


You close your eyes and actually pray for strength. To _Who_ exactly, you have no idea, but you hope they will answer. When you open them, Crowley has stepped away from you, into the small kitchen. “Well, you certainly do have interesting taste, darling.”  


“We're not -” you start to protest, but stop, because you were almost certain that you and Loki _had_ been heading in that direction.  


Loki is stalking towards Crowley now, his pale eyes flashing, and the danger and power radiating from him is palpable, as is the disdain when he addresses the demon. “So I assume that you are the _thing_ she fears enough to leave SHIELD and hide away from the world.”  


“Name's Crowley.” Crowley rocks back on his heels, a knowing smirk spreading on his handsome face. “And the truth, as is so often the case, is somewhere in between the whole he said-she said nonsense. What tales has the little minx been weaving about me?”  


“Nothing.” You finally find your voice at that. “I don't talk about you. Ever. To anyone.”  


“Oh, you wound me, pet. I thought we had something special.” he places his hand over his heart, sighing dramatically. “Although, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised, considering our last encounter.”  


“You tried to kill me!” you cry.  


“You tried to kill me first, so I think we're even, lover.”  


“Lover?!” Shock filled Loki's tone, as Crowley revealed just the thing you had hoped he wouldn't.

“Loki … it's, it's complicated....” you implored him, hoping for understanding. Loki had made _massive_ mistakes, after all. Of course, he still refused to admit that the invasion of New York _was_ a mistake....  


“Yes, we were quite the thing back in the day.” Crowley grins at Loki's discomfort and obvious jealousy. “We carried on behind the scenes for _months_. She lied to Fury, stole from SHIELD, all for _me_.” he looks ridiculously pleased with himself, relishing revealing all your secrets and shameful mistakes. Your face reddens at just how he twists the story, making it sound even worse than it was. “I didn't – It wasn't – the stealing was for Sam and Dean! They needed an archangel blade to defeat Lucifer! Fury can't keep something like that locked up when the freaking DEVIL is running around causing chaos!!" 

“You also helped Rowena escape SHIELD's clutches, once she figured out what was going on between the two of us.” He points out smugly. “Yes, mother told me about that.”  


“She blackmailed me!” you protest, a little weakly. One mistake, one lie, and your life had spiraled out of control so quickly.  


Crowley chuckles. “Yes, mother tends to do that. The ginger whore.”  


Something between rage and deep, deep sadness flashes across Loki's face, but it lasts for only a moment before he has it concealed behind the cool, collected mask once more. You remember suddenly that Thor had said something about his mother being killed by Dark Elves. And that Loki had helped him to avenge Frigga (admittedly, faking his own death in the process). But however complicated his relationship with the rest of his family, Loki had loved his mother.  


“I can see your true face, demon.” Loki sneers haughtily. “I will give you this one chance to leave this place unharmed, now.”  


“How kind of you.” Crowley produced a glass of what was no doubt Craig from thin air. “Whiskey?” He offered. “I guarantee it's better than anything she has.”  


When Loki made no move to take the offered glass, Crowley shrugged and took a sip. "Suit yourself."

“Are you going to tell me how you got past the warding or not?” You demand again. You need to fix whatever the weakness is so this doesn't happen again. If you survived the night, that is. “You shouldn't even be able to cross the iron railroad track!”  


“Oh, a lessor demon never could have gotten in here.” He smiles smugly as he leans against your counter and takes a sip of his whiskey. You edge a little closer to Loki, which both of them notice, but thankfully neither of them say anything. “You did quite a job with this place. And it took me a while. But everything has weaknesses. It just takes time to suss them out.”  


“I felt the magic surrounding this place weaken as soon as he arrived,” Loki commented to you.  


“But the iron ….” you say helplessly.  


“Isn't there anymore.” Crowley supplied.  


You gape. He shouldn't be able to touch iron!  


Crowley raises an eyebrow. “You think demons are the only ones who work for me? Please. Besides, a hunter helped you set this place up, didn't he?”  


You gasp in horror as images of torture flash through your mind. “Did you do something to Simon?!”  


“Nothing sordid.” Crowley smirks at you over his glass.“I simply bought him, just like his grandfather. Campbells are so corruptible, it seems.”  


“And you're very good at corrupting people,” you mutter bitterly.  


“Oh, pppffff." He waves away what he knows you're referring to. " _That's_ nothing to be ashamed of.” Crowley flashes you his most charming, swoon-inducing smile, before turning back to Loki, raising his eyebrows as he said with a conspiring tone. “Girl needs a bit of monster in her man. Which bodes well for you, I suppose.”  


“I am a God, demon!” Loki drew himself up to his full, impressive height, green fire starting to lick around his fingertips. “I am Loki, of Asgard –”  


“Ah, but you're not, are you?” Crowley raised one finger as he interrupted Loki's speech. “Of Asgard?”  


“What?” You and Loki say at the same time, the surprise causing the fire-spell Loki had been preparing to flicker and die out.  


“Funny thing." Crowley's self-assured smirk is maddening, more so to you than to Loki, because you know that expression. That's the smirk he wears when he is 10 steps ahead of you, when he holds _all_ the cards, and he's about to let you know it. "Thor calls you brother, but you're not, are you? Not by blood.” Crowley chuckles a little when the God is shocked speechless .... which, wow, you're _never once _heard of that happening. The demon king then turns to you. “After the incident in New York, I of course deployed my best people to scour the earth – and realms beyond – for as much information about these new players as possible.”  
__

____

“Do you always have to be such a fucking drama queen?” you snap.  


Crowley's smirk widens. “Loki was _raised_ in Asgard, but he's actually from Jötunheim. He's a Frost Giant.” He looks back to Loki as he set his glass down. “Did Odin ever even tell you? No, he wouldn't have, would he?" The smile takes on a slightly cruel edge, and you know Crowley is about to twist the knife. You hold your breath. The demon is playing an _extremely_ dangerous game. "Finding out must have been quite traumatic.”  


Loki snarls, lurching forward, gripping Crowley by the throat. “I can still destroy you easily.” his growl is feral, unhinged, and he launches Crowley across the room. The demon's back hits the cupboards with enough force to make them come tumbling to the ground with him. You gasp. If they fought for real, these two would destroy your house around them!  


“Loki, stop!” you cry. He ignores you, stalking towards the demon on the floor. There's a flash of green enveloping his form, and suddenly his civilian clothes have been replaced by the Asgardian armor he had worn when you first met him. The black and green leather with gold trim suits him, accentuates his beautiful form, but it can only mean one thing. He's going in for the kill.  


Thinking quickly, you drop the beers you've been holding this whole time, run to him and grip his bicep. You try not to be distracted by the strength you can feel under your fingers. “I'm sorry,” you breathe. Your apology stops the Trickster God short in surprise, and when he looks at you, you're surprised to see a vulnerability in his blue eyes, behind the guardedness. “When I said you had cold hands. I didn't know. I didn't mean to ….” Your sentence trails off. The Jötuns were the ancient enemy of the Asgardians, and Loki must have been raised on tales of their evil, raised to believe they were monsters. If Odin had never told him what he really was …. You wondered how he had discovered the truth. However it had happened, it had to have caused a massive identity crisis. Suddenly New York made so much more sense. Loki is staring into your eyes with surprise and … is that gratefulness? Has no one ever apologized to him for making his entire life a lie?  


“Aww, aren't you two cute.” Crowley had straightened up during your exchange with Loki, and was dusting off his black suit.  


A growl is ripped from Loki's throat and your moment with him is over, as his blue-green eyes cloud over with stormy anger again. He takes a step towards Crowley, who raises his hands. “You know, we don't have to fight. I don't mind sharing her.” You gape at Crowley's audacity, and he has the balls to actually leer at the angry God in front of him. “And I'm hung like a horse. I hear you're into that sort of thing.”  


_Oh no. Not the horse comment._ You do something monumentally stupid then. You put yourself in between God and demon, one hand on each of their chests, and scream at the top of your lungs, “STOP IT!!! IF YOU TWO WANT TO KILL EACH OTHER, YOU CAN DO IT SOMEWHERE WHERE YOU WON'T DESTROY **_MY_** HOUSE!!!!!”  


They both gaze at you in shock, their own anger at each other forgotten, as they regard you. The anger pumping through your veins has your body humming, and you glare at both of them, your lips turned downwards into a scowl. You can feel the heat from Crowley's body seeping into your palm through his shirt, such a contrast to the coolness of Loki's skin, and for a moment you allow yourself to imagine what it would be like to have them both at once. But only for a moment, before the danger of your situation hits you again, and you suddenly feel very small and vulnerable. You struggle to control your heartbeat and breathing, both of which want to pick up wildly out of control. You make an effort to project an aura of calm, and you aren't entirely sure you're succeeding.  


“Quite the pistol, isn't she?” Crowley comments, meeting Loki's eyes over your head.  


“Yes, I find her very intriguing.” Loki responds. Your frown deepens. Why do they sound so amicable all of a sudden?  


“And that fire!” That arrogant smirk of Crowley's is so infuriatingly attractive. “She's such a wildcat in bed!” he practically coos.  


You and Loki both flush simultaneously, and Crowley suddenly chuckles. “Oooooo, you haven't had her yet?” You snatch your hands off of the both of them, taking a step back so you are no longer wedged in between their bodies. Their far, far too attractive bodies. Crowley looks between you and Loki curiously. “Why not?” There's no mocking in his tone, for once. He seems genuinely surprised.  


“We, uh, haven't gotten that far....” you cough, embarrassed. Why were you justifying yourself to him?!  


“Playing the ingénue, are we, kitten?” Crowley addressed you, before turning to Loki with a smirk. “You shouldn't let her get away with that. She's nowhere near as innocent as she pretends to be.”  


“Indeed?” Loki sounded intrigued. They were suddenly talking as if they were the oldest of friends, and the change in attitude made your head spin.  


“Oh, yes, our naughty girl here has _quite_ the submissive streak.”  


Oh god, that's exactly what Loki needed to hear! Wait, _our_ girl?! “I … I think I liked it better when you guys were fighting.”  


“Oh, please,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “If you liked 'em good, you would have climbed Moose by now. Or that idiot with the bow and arrow.”  


You almost snap that Clint was married, but you hold it back. That was a secret that wasn't on SHIELD's files. As far you were aware, only Fury, Natasha, and yourself were aware that Agent Barton had a secret family, set up in a safe place where no one knew their identities and they could not be used against him. No way would you endanger Clint's wife and children by letting that slip to the King of Hell, just because you were a little embarrassed. Without a decent comeback, you just … sort of ….. sulk.  


“So, what do you think, O mighty God of Mischief?” Crowley's grin has become an outright leer again, and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he regards Loki. “Want to teach our bad girl here a lesson?”  


Even as you're offended that he's talking to Loki as if you're not even there, you can't deny that a part of you is extremely excited by Crowley's proposal. Unfortunately, he was right; you had a submissive streak, that was for sure. You can see that slightly frightening spark in Loki's eyes as he silently considers, and you know that he likes the idea. You lean against the counter, suddenly not able to support your weight anymore.  


“It's …. up to her.” Loki finally says, and looks at you expectantly. Your heart melts when you realize that he's actually asking for your permission so blatantly. Crowley had never forced you into anything, but he had been much more … demanding …. in his seduction. He had never been shy about touching you, long before you had finally given in. But Loki was much more controlled than Crowley was, he held himself back, as if he was waiting until he was absolutely sure of your consent. He didn't just want your body, he didn't just want your submission, he wanted you to _want_ to submit to him. The thought sends a thrill through you.  


“Well? What do you say, kitten?” Crowley purrs in that seductive voice that he knows makes your knees weak.  


You know you should refuse. You should say no. Good girls would be disgusted by the very idea. And your history with Crowley was _beyond_ complicated. What normal woman would even _consider_ sleeping with the man who had tried to kill her, only a few years before?? Although, to be fair, you HAD started it, and it could be seen as an act of self-defense ….. The memory of his hazel eyes flashing to that angry demonic red told you it was more rage at your audacity, however. What chance did you ever _actually_ have against the King of Hell, armed with your little spells or not? Oh, this was _wrong_. It was wrong on so many levels, you couldn't even articulate them all. But you _wanted_ it, you wanted them, _both_ of them, with a desire so intense that it scared you. 

What did you have to lose by saying yes, really? You had already lost your job and most of your friends, your reputation had already been besmirched, probably beyond all hope of repair. Clint was the only one at SHIELD who didn't think you were a filthy traitor, and that was because he nursed a hope that you hadn't been in your right mind, that you had been mind-controlled somehow. But no, you had made all of your choices. And as for your new life? You were a fucking hermit in the woods, for Christ's sake. Nothing special there. Maybe .... maybe feeling safe was overrated, too.  


Your voice cracks a little. “I …. yes.”  


Both their faces break into wide, predatory smirks, and you nearly swoon from the hungry look in their eyes alone.  


Oh, good lord. Your taste in men was going to kill you, you were absolutely sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry to end this chappie right as we are getting to the good stuff. I am already working on the next chapter, but it will probably be much longer before I update, because good smut takes a long time. And this is the very first threesome I have ever written before, so I am learning as I go.


	3. Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Reader gets more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry this took so long. This is the first threesome I've ever written, sooo yeah. Might have been out sooner if I hadn't tried to write DP. That …. Didn't turn out the way I wanted and I pulled that part. I hope you still like it anyway!  
> Also, if there are any typos or errors or problems, I sincerely apologize. I'm stealing Burger King's wifi and posting from my car before work. I'll come back later and do a re-read (like the 10th one!) to make sure everything turned out okay. I just felt bad about you guys having to wait for so long!!!

Loki reaches you first. You had imagined that his kiss would be slow and languid, sensual and teasing, but his lips crash onto yours with enough force to take your breath away. You clutch onto his leather-clad biceps for support, and one of his arms curls around your waist. The long fingers of his other hand tangle in your hair as his cool tongue plunders your mouth, tasting all of you, until you're left panting and quivering in his arms. Some primal part of your brain realizes that Loki is claiming you, kissing you this possessively in front of Crowley so that the demon realizes that even though he's willing to share, as far as Loki is concerned, you belong to _him_ first. The thought actually makes you tremble and moan into his mouth. He suddenly pulls away, leaving you trembling and swaying. If he didn't have one arm wrapped around your waist, you actually would have doubted your ability to stand upright. The green in Loki's eyes is brighter than you have ever seen them, that manic gleam so prominent, and it both arouses you and frightens you, just a little. The hand in your hair moves downwards, caressing your face gently, and he runs a thumb along your well-kissed bottom lip. You chase it and try to nip at it.

Loki chuckles at that. “Oh yes, I'm going to enjoy you,” he purrs lowly, his smooth voice causing heat to pool between your legs.  


Another deep chuckle comes from behind you, and Loki lets you lean backwards into Crowley's warmth as the King of Hell decides it's time to join the party. He presses himself against your back, his body feverish-hot, as it always is, and you can feel that he is already starting to get hard. Crowley's large, slightly calloused hands run down your sides again as he starts to kiss the back of your neck, the pleasant scratch from his beard just as you remembered it. “Mmmm, I've missed these curves,” he hums into your neck.  


You snort, one hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, twining in the fine silky hair there, gasping as Crowley scrapes his teeth along your jaw. “I'm sure you've found someone else to warm you bed, Your Highness. Monogamy isn't exactly a demonic trait.”

He actually laughs out loud at that. “Oh, I've had several eager little demons serve me in the meantime, kitten – and a few not-so-eager. But none with your intoxicating combination of wit, brains and beauty.”

Loki leans in, whispering in your ear, “Even you can tell that's a lie, I hope,” knowing full well that Crowley could hear him.

“Well, obviously, I must like the liars,” you moan and quiver as Loki's tongue traces the shell of your ear, your hand leaving Crowley's neck to fist in Loki's tunic. Crowley's hands get more bold, gripping your hips and grinding your round ass against his tightly-contained erection. You're trapped between them, your body being assaulted by too many differing sensations, the incredible heat from Crowley's demonic form and the intoxicating cold from Loki's confusing your senses, your nerves humming with pleasure already, and you can feel your panties already getting wet. Loki's eyes are bright, taking in every reaction, every gasp you make, as he explores your body with his hands. When his cool hands slip under your shirt, you thrust yourself eagerly into his hands. Your nipples harden into tight buds instantly at the touch of his cool fingers, but he merely ghosts his fingertips over them and smirks when you whine as he moves away, his fingers dancing along your ribs.

“I think we should make her beg,” he finally says.

You can _feel_ the wolfishness of Crowley's grin against your pulse at that suggestion.“What do you think, kitten?” Crowley purrs in your ear, rubbing his beard against your neck in that way he knows you like. One of his warm hands slips between yours and Loki's bodies, gliding to the seam of your jeans, fiddling with the button. “We could edge you for hours, getting you _so_ close, but not letting you cum until _we_ wanted you to.” His hand slipped into your jeans, caressing your folds with one finger through your panties. Crowley chuckled at the broken moan that came from your throat and gently circled your clit before moving away, making you whine. His voice was throaty and husky as he continued, stroking his way teasingly up and down your cloth-covered slit as he did so, “I'd bet a king's ransom that you would be so desperate for us to fill you up that you'd be willing to do absolutely anything we ask. Oh, the sweet little sounds you'd make, begging for us to fuck you, to ram our hard cocks inside your aching holes. You'd like for us to take you at the same time, fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow, wouldn't you, you naughty, dirty girl?”

You had forgotten just how fucking _hot_ it was when Crowley talked dirty. “Fuck, yes,” you groan, trying vainly to thrust yourself into his hand, desperate for friction against your already-dripping core. Loki has moved to sucking on your collarbones during Crowley's speech, and it's maddening, feeling Crowley's hot, blunt fingers in your pants while Loki's cold tongue laves against your skin, licking up the trickles of sweat already running down your neck. You want that tingling coolness from his mouth to move lower, to your painfully-hard nipples that Loki is refusing to touch. His fingers are still skimming your body gently, teasingly, occasionally kneading your breast or hip before going back to gently exploring. He has maneuvered one knee between your legs somehow, and you're shamelessly humping against it. Its somewhat awkward, considering his height; Crowley was barely taller than you, as his hard cock poking between your ass checks is reminding you. Oh, fuck, you remembered how good it felt to have that cock inside of you, and your mouth actually waters as you think of fucking him and Loki at the same time.

“First, you're going to have to break that devil's trap outside your bedroom door,” Crowley's voice is still a seductive purr. Almost as if he's somewhat hesitant to remind you that you're about to fuck a demon (again). Loki looks up, smirks, and you realize what he's going to do an instant before he does it.

The bottom of your stomach drops out as the familiar feeling of teleportation takes over. You're in your bedroom now, Loki standing over you with that sparkle in his eyes and the alluring smirk on his lips, as you hear a long string of curse words being bellowed from downstairs. You want to sound disapproving, but you can't help it. It's funny. You cover your mouth and try to control the fit of giggles that's threatening. “That-that was mean!” you gasp out.

Just a bit of fun,” Loki reassures you. “I broke the trap myself. He'll just have to join us the old fashioned way, by taking the stairs – as soon as he figures that out.”

Loki is giving you that look that unnerves you again, not because it's full of malice or lust, but because it seems to be genuine affection in the depths of his blue-green eyes.

“That won't take him long,” you tell him.

“Then we had better use our time wisely,” before you can even wonder what that means, you're on your back on the bed, and Loki is hovering over you. You gasp. The green flecks in his eyes are nearly glowing, and his black hair has fallen around his face as he uses his hands to support his weight as he crawls up your body. He's the very definition of vicious elegance, of dangerous beauty, and you _want_ him, with an intense burning desire that shocks you. He settles his weight onto you, his body between your legs, and his smooth, velvety voice caresses you as his long fingers brush your hair. “I want you to give yourself to me, willingly, completely, body and soul,” his voice is a whisper, and even this close you have to strain to hear it. “As you did with him,” you think you can detect a slight twinge of bitterness to that, but you can't be sure.

“I-I never gave Crowley my soul,” you're trembling from the intensity of the desire coursing through you, but it feels important to point out that small, crucial detail. “That's not a euphemism, with him. He buys souls, literally. You have to be careful with your words around him.”

That wide, manic, slightly terrifying grin breaks out across Loki's face, and your breath catches to see it so close. “Then I'll have a part of you that he could never touch,” Loki is clearly pleased to hear that. Triumphant, even. “Give yourself to me, and I will reward you with pleasure such as you could have never imagined.”

Loki's cool fingers are skimming through your hair, dancing along your scalp, while the other hand cups your jaw as he waits for your answer. It's not just lust that has you wanting to say yes, to agree to his bargain, but a realization that had been growing for a while that there was an actual connection between the two of you. It scares you a little, and yes, you want to explore it, but this? It's stupid, so stupid. You can't believe you are considering this, let alone that your first kiss with Loki had been while your demonic ex-lover was watching and waiting to join. Oh, you did _not_ have a normal person's life, at all. For the first time, you think that maybe you couldn't blame Crowley entirely for the disaster at SHIELD after all. Maybe you never were meant to be a SHIELD agent. Maybe you were just different. Maybe …. maybe this was just meant to be. Fate. Destiny. Wyrd. Whatever. 

“Yes,” you finally groan. “I … I give myself to you, Loki.”

“My little mortal,” he breathes, “Mine,” and kisses you. This time, it's the kiss you had imagined. Slow, gentle, teasing. Maddening. Loki's lips are gentle against yours, and his tongue licks along the seam of your mouth. You open, inviting him in, but he takes his time. Eventually you become frustrated and grip his hair, trusting your hips up against him. 

He chuckles, “Eager, are we?” His hardness tells you that he isn't unaffected by the positioning, but he has amazing self-control. And he did promise to make you beg. The thought makes you quiver with need, even more heat pooling in your already slick core.

Instead of deepening the kiss, you're surprised when he moves downwards, pushing your shirt up to your neck. Without any preamble, Loki has attached himself to one of your nipples. Just as you had thought, his cool mouth tingles and it feels FANTASTIC as he sucks your nipple hard, lashing it with his tongue. “Oh-oh,” you gasp out, and you can feel Loki's lips twist into a smile around the hard bud. He tweaks the other one with those long fingers you've spend so much time admiring, and you're soon a writhing mess under his hands.

“LOKI!” you gasp his name helplessly.

He pulls away, for just long enough to purr, “That's it, little one, say my name,” and attacks the other breast as he kneads the first one. You reach down to tangle your hand in his long, dark hair. It's softer than you had expected, and when he bent to his work, the tips tickle your over-sensitized skin, sending shocks through you. Watching the God of Mischief bent over you, as you had fantasized so often, mesmerizes you and turns your body to putty in his skilled hands. You're moaning, eyes lidded, gasping out his name as your fingers twist in his hair. You're so into it that you don't hear the door open, or Crowley's sharp intake of breath when he sees you spread out on the bed.

That was a dirty trick,” Crowley's voice drawls from the doorway. You turn your head to look, and see the demon king with one hand on the door knob, looking flushed and quite hot and bothered. He's still addressing Loki, but his hazel eyes are glued to you. “Well played. I like you.”

Loki doesn't stop what he's doing, but the smirk against your skin has widened as he starts to slowly kiss and lick his way down your chest. You can see the pants of Crowley's expensive tailored suit tented, the huge bulge displaying how turned on he was by the sight, and it turned you on even more to know how you were affecting him.

You release Loki's hair and stretch your arms above your head, purring in your most seductive voice. “You gonna to gawk all night, Crowley, or are you going to join us?”

“Actually, kitten, I think I'm going to just watch for a while. I've never gotten to see you from this angle.” Crowley settles himself into your computer chair, spinning it around to face the bed instead of the desk. His hazel eyes are practicing burning with desire, and you swear you can feel like he's touching you with just the intensity of his gaze. “Although, I think we can do better than that atrocious outfit.”

He lifts his fingers and smirks at you before he snaps them, and suddenly your jeans and t-shirt are gone. In their place, you are wearing black thigh-high stockings and a black sheer baby-doll nightie with gold trim over a lacy green g-string and matching bra.

“Nice choice,” Loki comments as he draws back to admire your new attire with a hungry look in his vivid eyes.

“Thank you,” Crowley sounds far too pleased. “I did the green and gold for you. I usually prefer red, myself.”

You can't help but roll your eyes a little at their bro-ing out over dressing you up in lingerie. Your attitude disappears immediately when you feel Loki's cool fingertips caressing the inside of your thighs. Your eyes snap back to the God who's kneeling between your legs, widening a little at the leering smirk he sends you as those beautifully long fingers caress your goose-prickling skin.

“How's she feel?” Crowley asks huskily from the other side of the room.

“She's dripping,” Loki responds in a low, feline purr as his hands come to cup your ass and pull you forward. “And we've barely touched you yet, little one. You don't know desire, or pleasure, not yet. But you will.”

And with that, Loki bends his head, breathing in your scent. You tremble, a part of you still disbelieving that this is really happening, that a legendary God from Nordic folklore is about to go down on you. You can hear Crowley shifting in his seat, and knowing he's watching everything makes it somehow hotter. You bite your your lower lip as Loki presses his nose gently against your clothed clit, and then he has to go and lick a wet, cool stripe up the seam where your leg met your torso.  


“Oh God!” You gasp, writhing in his grip, one of your hands coming up to clasp over your mouth, trying to stifle your cries.  


“That's right, I'm your God, and only me,” Loki sounds far too smug, and in any other situation, you'd want to deck him in his too-handsome face for it. “Say my name, little one. I want to hear you _scream_ it.”  


In sharp contrast to how delicate he's been so far, he just _dives_ in, moving the small scrap of green cloth aside to begin tonguing at your clit. It's a shock, when that cool tongue touches the bundle of nerves, and you involuntarily arch in his hands.  


“Oh, fuck!” You gasp as his tongue swirls around the little nub, his brilliant eyes looking up at you intently. “Loki!”  


And oh _shit_ , the stories about his skill with his tongue were true. It's not like you've never had oral before, but this is some next level stuff. Loki eats you out like he's starving, like you're the first food he's seen in months, like you're the most delicious feast he's ever had. The slurping sounds are almost shameful, and you should be embarrassed, but all you can think of is that you need _more_. Soon both of your hands are buried in his hair, you're wantonly sobbing out his name over and over, and you would be thrusting against his face desperately if one of his hands wasn't holding your hip down. Vaguely you become aware of groans coming from Crowley's direction, and the thought that he might be touching himself to this display makes you even hotter. You throw yourself into it, arching your back and closing your eyes as your moaning picks up. The pleasure within you is building, the coil getting so close to springing …. and Loki suddenly pulls away.  


“NOOO!” you wail, actually punching the mattress in your frustration. “YOU BASTARD, I WAS SO CLOSE!!”  


“Oh, I can't let you cum that easily,” Loki's smirk is even sexier when his mouth is dripping with your juices, and you grip him by his hair and haul him up to you. He's laughing, and you get the feeling that he's immensely amused with your response, and is _letting_ you pull him up, but you don't care. You kiss him aggressively, plunge your tongue into his mouth, licking up the taste of your own arousal eagerly. His hands are caressing you through the nightie and his eyes suddenly turn dark and stormy.  


“I'm going to make you cum on my cock, not with my mouth,” he whispered, voice husky and thick with desire. “Besides, this demon of yours promised that we'd edge you for hours, and I can't break a promise, can I?” his tone is mocking, and you want to hate him for it, but you can't.  


Loki rises to his knees on the bed, pulling you up with him, and suddenly Crowley is beside you. The jacket of his suit is gone, as is the gray paisley tie, and his shirt is half-unbuttoned. His pupils are so blown with lust that you can barely make out the hazel of his vessel's eyes. Loki turns you towards him wordlessly and begins to kiss your neck, his hands slipping to your hips under the sheer nightie. You're a little unsteady but you reach out with shaking hands to grab Crowley by his belt and pull him to the edge of the bed. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” you whisper in a sultry tone, even as your other hand comes up to palm the evidence of his enjoyment through his pants. Crowley jerks into your hands. 

“Very much, kitten,” he growls, and the throaty sound makes your heart speed up. You lean forward to kiss him, nipping at the demon's lips. He tastes like blood and steel and whiskey, and there is still a faint hint of sulfur behind the alcohol, but somehow its not unpleasant. His beard is scratching your face as he kisses you, becoming more insistent. You wrap one hand around his shoulder for purchase as you continue to palm his cock through his pants. Crowley's hands run up your body, the heat coming off of him so incredible compared to the coolness of Loki behind you. And speaking of Loki, one of the Trickster's hands has slipped up to your breast and is kneading it, twirling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, even as your lips are locked with Crowley's. Crowley pulls away from you, a cocky smile on his face and a dangerous, hungry spark in this hazel eyes, and then his hands reach for the collar of the sheer lingerie. With a growl he rips the sheer fabric down the middle suddenly, and you gasp at the violence and dominance of it. He rips the lacy bra off next, letting it fall in ruined scraps, and the action has you shaking with desire, lighting you on fire as you remembered what it felt like when he would bend you over a table and fuck you hard, not letting you cum until you begged. He must have gotten frustrated with outside-the-pants, because all of a sudden his belt flies away of its own accord, and he's grinning at you. _Magic-users_ , you think.  


“Show-off,” you grumble as you reach inside. You look down as Crowley's cock springs from its confines, and you can't help but lick your lips. He wasn't bragging about the size of it, he was _huge_ , long and incredibly thick, heavily veined, the thick head a deep red color. Its already dripping precum from the slit, and you smear your fingers over it, giving you a small amount of lube to stroke him with. The skin feels like silk over steel, and you can't wait to have him inside you again.  


“Been waiting for that, haven't you, pet?” Crowley purrs. “Tell me, how many men have you slept with in the last three years? Have any of them been able to satisfy you? I doubt a mere human could ever get you off like I could. Have you thought about me at night, thought about this cock filling you up as you touch yourself?”  


You're more annoyed by the truth of his statement than anything else. “I've seen your cock before, Crowley.” You make a face as you continue to pump him, running you thumb along the head as you do. His face is so close to yours he could kiss you, and his nose brushes yours. His breath is hot on your face as he chuckles.“Yes, and the last time I saw you, I tried to choke the life out of you. Clearly, I've done something right if you're willing to get back into bed with the demon who tried to kill you.”  


You can feel Loki's lips on your neck turn into a frown as his fingers on your breast freezes at the reminder, or perhaps the brutal detail of Crowley's hands around your neck, and your other hand goes to where Loki's is curled on your hip, to squeeze his fingers in comfort and reassurance, a silent message that its okay. You're aware, somewhere at the back of your mind, how fucked-up this is, and that it _shouldn't_ be okay, not at all. But right now, you're too turned on to care. You'll worry about the implications of it all latter. You notice Crowley's eyes catch the motion, but he's wise enough not make a comment. Instead he bends slightly and sucks the nipple from the breast that Loki isn't kneading into his hot, wet mouth, and the contrast of hot and cold almost makes you cum right there. “Crowley ….” you moan as he sucks hard on the tight bud. You continue to stroke him, and it suddenly occurs to you that Loki's clothes are gone, judging from the cold seeping into your back. Fucking magic-users who couldn't be bothered to get undressed the normal way! Loki's fingers tilt your head back onto his shoulder gently, and when he kisses you it's passionate, hard, and you know that his self-control is being tested. The kiss seems to go on forever, his tongue spearing into your mouth, claiming you, and if you didn't need to breathe at some point, you're not sure if it would ever end. When he finally gives you a break, you're breathing heavily, and you know your hand on Crowley's cock is faltering, despite the fact that you have been trying to keep a steady pace.  


Loki looks to the flushed demon. “How should we take her?” his tone is conversational, causal, as if he's discussing the weather. “One on each end?” You shiver, picturing it in your mind.  


“She never did let me fuck that tight little arse of hers,” Crowley sounded almost mournful as he watched Loki palm the curve of your behind.  


“I can't say that I blame her, now that I've seen your manhood myself,” Loki comments sardonically.  


“Like what you see?” Crowley grins. “You're quite beautiful yourself.”  


Loki is completely nonplussed, merely rolling his eyes. “You couldn't handle fucking me, demon.”  


The images that suddenly rush through your mind at the verbal repartee makes your knees weak. Crowley, unfortunately, notices. “Does that turn you on, kitten?” he winks at you. “Thinking about me fucking your new boyfriend?”  


“Everything about you two turns me on,” you mumble, completely truthfully, missing that he had called Loki your 'boyfriend'. They both chuckle at the same time, one voice gruff and one smooth as velvet, and the sound itself could drive a girl over the edge.  


“I think we've teased her enough,” Loki purrs in your ear, sending shockwaves through your body. “Its time to give our little mortal what she wants.”  
Loki presses a palm on one of your shoulder blades gently, and you take the message eagerly, scrambling to your hands and knees. You look over your shoulder at him for just a moment. Crowley's right, he's fucking beautiful, long lean body pale and well-muscled, perfectly toned and muscled in a well-proportioned but not excessive way. His wavy black hair is falling loose around his narrow shoulders, and those blue-green eyes have the slightly scary manic gleam again as he takes in your bent-over position. Your eyes trace the taut lines of his muscles down to the long, curved cock under the dark thatch of hair, and you actually moan out loud. Loki smirks at your reaction, and he wraps those long fingers round his cock and strokes himself, actually preening under your gaze. “Turn around, little one, if you want this inside you,” his voice is a sultry purr that is making you even wetter. Oh, it was just _not_ fair for these guys to be so damn sexy!  


You do so, your legs already nearly shaking with excitement as you turn your attention to Crowley. The demon's cock is right in your face, and you immediately set to work. You lick a long, wet stripe from the base to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head, pressing the point to the sensitive spot just under the head, drawing more deep rumbles from Crowley's throat. A heavy hand lands on your head as he lets out a guttural groan from above you. “That's it, pet,” he encourages you. After a few more moments of teasing, you engulf the head in your mouth, sucking gently.  


You're still wearing the stockings and green g-string, and Loki simply pulls the thong aside, cool fingers gripping your hips as he makes enough room for the head of his cock to tease your folds. Loki's eyes are fixed on you, enjoying the sinful sight of you bent over for him, sucking Crowley's cock like a pro. You can't help but moan, and the vibration around his cock makes Crowley groan with delight. Loki sinks into you slowly, inch by torturous inch, so you feel it all, not in a single deep thrust as Crowley nearly always had. It has you writhing and moaning in desperation for him, which in turn is driving Crowley absolutely crazy.  


“Bloody hell, kitten,” he gasps, and you make an effort to relax your throat because you know he's going to lose patience soon. It's not long before he's fucking your mouth, pumping in and out steadily, grunting with each thrust. His cock is so large that your jaw aches and your throat burns, but you love it. The fire inside of you is growing steadily higher as Loki thrusts into your dripping wet pussy. The only sound in the room is the slap of skin on skin, Crowley's gruff grunts as he fucks your mouth, and Loki's soft gasps at how good it feels to finally be sheathed inside your tight warmth. Loki's thrusts are increasing in pace, and your breasts are slapping together from the force of being slammed into on both ends by these incredible men.  


Both of Crowley's hands are tangled in your long hair now, and your throat burns as he thrusts himself deeply into the cavern of your mouth. One of Loki's cool hands begins trailing gently up and down your back and around your body to stroke your clit as he begins to fuck you deeper and harder. Once again, he skillfully brings you to the edge of oblivion, and then … backs off. Tears gather in your eyes from the force of your denied orgasm, your body shaking and quivering with need. You try to moan a “please,” but it's muffled by Crowley's cock in your mouth. You can still hear the haughty smirk in Loki's voice when he starts to taunt you.  


“This is your natural state, isn't it? On your knees before a God, taking his commands?” Loki punctuates every other word with a deep thrust into your core, making you moan around Crowley's cock. His breathing is picking up and his hands are pulling harder on your hair, and you don't think the demon was going to last much longer. Loki is still monologing as he fucks you – because of course he is – Neither of them can ever shut up, they're both in love with the sound of their own voice, and you're kind of surprised that Crowley hasn't joined in yet. “You see now the pleasure you can have when you just surrender?”  


All of a sudden Crowley pulls out of your mouth, the hand in your hair yanking your head up to meet his eyes. “Mouth open, kitten,” he growls down at you as his other hand wraps around that huge cock and begins to pump himself furiously. It's not that you wouldn't have swallowed, but Crowley has always enjoyed marking you, smearing his cum all over your naked body. You do as he says, another moan escaping your lips as Loki starts to pound into you harder. Crowley's hazel eyes are burning with the intensity of his desire, and after a moment the hand in your hair tightens and he lets out a deep, guttural groan that sends fire straight to your throbbing clit. He growls and his eyes swirl red when he cums, spraying the hot, sticky substance all over your face and chin. Some of it lands in your mouth, and you dutifully swallow. Like the rest of him, his cum has a slight sulfuric taste, and it _should_ be unpleasant, but somehow, it isn't.  


Crowley let out a contented sigh as he releases your hair and his eyes rake over you. “Oh, kitten, if you could see what a sight you are like this, bent over, getting fucked hard, my cum all over your face,” his rough voice is continuing to do _things_ to you. Crowley drops to his knees and starts to lick his own cum off of your face. It shouldn't be so hot, it really shouldn't, but somehow, it _is_. “You're such a perv,” you giggle.  


“You love it, you dirty girl,” Crowley rumbles in that deep voice, and he kisses you, feeding you the last of his cum on his tongue. You suck his tongue clean, moaning. Crowley pulls away and watches your pleasure-drugged face as Loki continues to slam into you. “How's he feel, darling? Tell me what that magnificent Jötun cock is doing to you.”  


Loki's fingers on your hips tighten, digging in almost painfully. You wince, more at Crowley's gall to remind Loki that he knows of his true origins at a time like this.  


“It's good – Fuck!” your head falls forward onto Crowley's shoulder. It _is_ good, so good. The curve of Loki's manhood hits that sweet spot inside of you perfectly each time, and you don't know how much more of this you take. “Loki, oh God yes!” you gasp against Crowley's skin as the God doubles his pace suddenly. Crowley can't resist tweaking your nipples, and your entire body is buzzing from the intensity of the pleasure building within you. Your legs begin to shake. You don't think you'll survive another denied orgasm.  


“Loki, please!” You beg shamelessly.  


“Please, what?” You're going to kill him for that smugness, you swear you are. “Use your words, little one.”  


“Please, please, let me cum this time!”  


With your head on his shoulder, you feel the vibration from deep in Crowley's chest as he chuckles. “I think our girl has earned it at this point.”  
“Yes, I suppose she has.”  


The relief that floods you when Loki agrees is indescribable. Loki continues to piston into your tight core, and you throw your head back, giving into the sensations. “Fuck, yes, fuck me Loki, yes!!” Your eyes are squeezed shut, so you don't see Crowley watching your face in fascination, inches from your own, but you hear him: “Pull her hair,” his voice is almost strained. “She likes that.”  


“Indeed?” Loki is starting to sound wrecked, himself. His long fingers glide into your hair and he pulls gently, as if testing the waters. The slight spark of pain sends electricity throbbing straight to your needy clit, and your moan seems to encourage him, because he grabs a full handful now and pulls harder. “Yes!” you gasp.  


“Told you,” Crowley chuckles. You would roll your eyes, if you weren't feeling so damn good right now. You're close, you can feel it, your muscles are starting to clench and spasm around Loki's cock as he pumps into you. Suddenly Loki pulls you up by your hair, and his lips claim yours in another passionate, dominating kiss. You gasp in shock when you feel an unnaturally hot tongue on your clit at the same time, and you realize that Crowley has leaned forward and begun licking your clit at the same time as Loki is thrusting himself into you. Your entire body is quivering with the overload of sensations now, of hot and cold, of penetration and tongue, hard thrusting and gentle licking, all at once. It doesn't take long before your orgasm claims you. You gasp into Loki's mouth, and your vision clouds over for a moment as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, dragging you under. If Loki wasn't holding you up, you would have fallen, you're sure. Crowley continues to lick you through your orgasm, and Loki thrusts into you a few more times, before groaning your name softly in your ear as he cums. And oh hell, that was hot, the God of Mischief's smooth voice wrecked with desire as he moaned your name while spilling himself inside you. Crowley continued to lash your clit with his tongue with unbelievable aggressiveness for a few moments, before he finally pulled back. He stood and finally shed the pants he was still half wearing.  


Crowley is grinning at you like the cat that ate the canary, “Oh darling,” He purrs, “The two of you like this is sooooo enticing!” He smacks his lips, still slick with your cum, and you feel a sudden wave of dizziness.  


“I-I need to lay down.” You're still shaky, unsteady in your position, and Loki just now slips his softening cock out of you, leaking cum down your leg. “Of course.”  


Loki gently lowers you to the bed, his strong arms supporting you, and Crowley climbs in, “I hope you don't think we're done, pet.”  


Curse his demonic stamina.  


Loki chuckles at your expression, those delicious lips curved into a grin. “Oh yes, I have MANY more plans for you, my little mortal.”  


You gulp. Maybe taking both of these superhuman men on at the same time wasn't the best idea after all.

~0~0~0~

Many, many hours later, you are beyond exhausted, but sated on a bone-deep level that you hadn't known was possible. A part of you thought that your lovers would have continued to go on forever, if only to show up the other. Somewhere around the dozenth orgasm, you had to beg them for a rest. You were the only mortal in this equation, after all. Every muscle felt like it was made of jelly, and your sex was still buzzing and slightly sensitive. If they hadn't granted you a break, you might have ended up finding out if a person could die from pleasure overload.  


The three of you were stretched out in the bed, all scraps of clothing cast aside now. It seems like it should be more awkward than it is. The sheets are sweaty and tangled, and you are wedged in between a demon and a God. One of Loki's cool hands is cupping your chin, as he kisses you, entirely slow and unhurried, his tongue in your mouth somehow lazily sparking a fragment of desire still. One you had absolutely *NO* intention of acting on right now. Crowley's arm is thrown over both of your hips, his nose nestled into your shoulder blade as his too-warm body is spooned completely against yours. You would think he was dozing if you weren't aware of the fact that demons don't sleep. He had never been much of a cuddler before, but you assume that, like everything else tonight was, he modifying his behavior in an attempt to match or show up Loki.  


But of course it's too peaceful to last long. The room begins to shake, a slight rumble filling the room. Loki pulls away from you, looking slightly alarmed, but when Crowley sighs in aggravation and slides out of the bed, you know what it is.  


“He's being summoned,” you explain to Loki, as you turn around and sit up. To the suddenly fully-dressed Crowley, you say, “So, who is it? Some idiot trying to sell their soul, or a hunter who wants to work you over for info?”  


“Actually, it's Moose,” Crowley turns and chuckles at the horror on your face.  


“Crowley, you-you aren't going to ….” you stutter.  


“Tell the virtuous Sam Winchester that I just had my dick shoved all the way down your throat, while the God of Mischief took you from behind? That between the two of us, we just filled up every hole you have? Don't worry pet, as amusing as it might be to see the expression his face, I don't think I'll betray your secret just yet.” Oh, so it was back to keeping your dalliances in his back pocket as a bargaining chip. Well, you suppose it was too much to hope for character growth from a demon. 

“Besides," Crowley continued. "Moose and Squirrel most likely want to conspire against Asmodeus, and I think in this case, we have a common enemy.”  


“Right, the last surviving Prince of Hell, who's challenging you for the throne.” You're pleased to see the surprise on his face when you let him know that you aren't as ignorant as he might have thought. “Aren't the Princes technically more powerful than you, having been made with Lucifer's Grace?”  


Crowley purses his lips a little. “For a hermit, you've stayed amazingly well-informed.”  


“Knowledge is power. You taught me that, _lover._ ” You lean back onto Loki's chest and smile smugly at him, while Loki's fingers stroke up and down your arms. You can't see his face, but you're certain that Loki is wearing a matching smirk right now. “And I'm especially careful about demons.”  


The shaking in the room intensifies slightly, and Loki sounds annoyed when he asks Crowley, “Can't you do something about that?”  


A wince of pain crosses the demon's face. It's small, but you've spent far too much time studying his reactions and you notice it.  
“Doesn't it hurt you to resist a summoning?” You ask.  


“Don't worry your pretty little head about me, darling. I can handle this minuscule amount of pain. Better to make them wait a little. Can't have it be said that the Winchesters of all people have tamed me, after all.” He waggled his eyebrows at you suggestively.  


“I thought everyone was already saying that you're Dean's bitch.” you can't resist mocking Crowley about his legendary bromance with the elder Winchester, as inadvisable as it was, and something about having Loki by your side makes you feel bold. The trickster chuckles a little at that, and plants a little kiss to your hair.  


“Try the other way around, love.” Crowley's frown at your comment turns into a leering smirk as he watches Loki's gesture. “And by the way, I think the two of you make an absolutely _adorable_ couple, and if you ever wish to invite me into your bed again, don't hesitate to summon me.” He spreads his hands wide, and then he was gone, letting Sam and Dean's summoning spell take hold and whisk him away.  


After a heartbeat, Loki asks, sounding a little too causal, “So, who are the Winchesters?”  


You sigh. This was going to be a **_long_** conversation. It looked like your nice, quiet life was over, and you were going to be drawn back into the game sooner rather than later. Somehow, you didn't feel all that upset about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo. :fans self: I hope you found that as hot as I did.  
> Thank you so much for sharing the journey with me! This is officially the end. 
> 
> I actually have ideas for more adventures of Loki and Reader in this universe. There are just too many fun possibilities to explore! But I cannot guarantee when or even if I will get to them. I have two other longfics that I have been neglecting. But I do have more back-burner ideas for shorts in this universe, probably not an entire full-length fic. 
> 
> In any case, I appreciate you reading, kudoing, and commenting so much, and I truly hope you enjoyed!!


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